In the boundless chaotic darkness, at the end of the fragmented continent, the Cyclops carrying the entire earth on his back was staring at the ghost ship passing by at a close distance - this "ancient god" who had been dead for who knows how many centuries silently turned his cloudy single eye, as if the eye had briefly revived from the long river of time and was chasing the uninvited guest who had broken into this place.

Duncan stared at the eye, his whole body tensed up a little bit. Even though he was not affected by the so-called "mental pollution", he could not help feeling a suffocating pressure when he saw this extremely shocking scene - but he did not act rashly, nor did he try to make any response to the eye. He just let the Lost Homeland slowly pass in front of the giant, watching the eye, after turning to a limit, gradually move away from the stern.

The pale Cyclops did not show any further movement. He still carried the earth on his back, floating in the endless chaotic darkness.

But from behind Duncan, the goat head that looked like the Skull of Dreams suddenly spoke: "The giant was the first to die."

Duncan suddenly turned around and looked at the "Skull of Dreams" which was sitting obediently on the table.

"What did you say?" he couldn't help but ask again.

"The giant was the first to die." The Dream Skull repeated this sentence again, with the tone and content unchanged - and no matter how Duncan asked, it only answered this sentence.

Realizing that this was the only response that this "broken fragment of the ancient god" could make at the moment, Duncan did not continue to ask questions. He just turned his head thoughtfully and looked at the Cyclops that was gradually moving away outside the side of the ship. After a long time, he muttered to himself: "Due to the collapse and shattering of the stars, the pale giant king Salmier died in the first long night..."

In the boundless darkness outside the porthole, it seemed as if some noise quietly emerged when he said the name "Salmir", and then disappeared like the wind.

Duncan glanced in the direction of the Cyclops and suddenly frowned. After a brief hesitation, he walked towards the door of the captain's room.

Before pushing the door open and leaving, he looked back at the "Skull of Dreams" on the navigation table.

The latter was still staring at him quietly, his obsidian-carved eyes empty and dead.

Duncan ignored the disturbing gaze and turned to leave the captain's room.

He walked up the sloping stairs from the poop deck to the bridge above the captain's cabin, across the lifeless, mottled and tattered decks, and the heavy steering wheel waited for him at the end of the platform, swaying slightly from side to side against the dark background of the warp.

It was like a silent invitation.

Duncan walked toward the dark-colored steering wheel, stood in front of it and took a deep breath.

He was about to do something daring - taking the helm of the wrecked Homelander in the Warp was only the first step.

After calming down, he reached out, grasped the steering wheel, and released the power of fire.

In an instant, the fire spread. The invisible and illusory spiritual fire swept across the entire ship in the blink of an eye, and then gradually became transparent and disappeared in the void. Duncan felt his perception suddenly spread, and then the familiar feeling of "emptiness" came back with the spread of the flames.

He felt the emptiness of the Lost Homeland again, felt its phantom nature, the flames seemed to spread directly in the warp, and all he touched was coldness and emptiness.

But this time Duncan was well prepared. He did not lose his connection with the flame due to the shock of the "nothingness". He ignored the uneasiness brought by floating in the subspace without any defense, and focused more on the steering wheel in front of him - he tried to give the steering wheel entity and use it to control this phantom-like ghost.

A creaking noise came from under the steering wheel, and the entire phantom ship began to vibrate slightly - the spiritual sails were filled, and invisibly, it seemed as if cheers came from a distant place, sounding from all directions.

The captain is back.

Duncan slowly turned the steering wheel. He felt the ghost ship floating in the darkness begin to tilt slightly and change its course according to his control.

An indescribable feeling rose from the bottom of his heart - he really succeeded in controlling this ghost ship sailing in the warp, and... he even felt that sailing in the warp was easier and smoother than in the real world.

The Lost Homeland drew an arc in the darkness, turned its bow 180 degrees, and aimed again at the piece of celestial fragment that seemed to have been torn from a planet - the pale Cyclops that had already gone far away appeared in Duncan's field of vision again, and gradually moved closer.

Duncan sailed back to the ancient god again.

When the Lost Homeland approached to a certain distance, the cloudy single eye on the giant's face began to move again, staring at Duncan silently in the darkness.

Duncan seemed to not care about this gaze at all - in previous close encounters, he had noticed that the gaze of this eye had no effect on him at all, and rather than the nervousness and uneasiness brought by being stared at, he wanted to collect more information at this moment.

The Lost Homeland slowly approached the face of the Cyclops. The cloudy single eye grew larger and larger in Duncan's field of vision, until it almost occupied the entire size of the side of the ship.

Duncan stopped the boat at this position, then released the steering wheel, walked to the side of the boat, and observed the eye carefully.

The giant's eyeballs adjusted their angles slightly, and the hollow pupils turned towards him. The decayed single eye was already cloudy, as if there was a layer of pale mist covering the inside of the eyeball. Duncan saw his own figure reflected on the surface of the mist, hazy and unreal.

"...What are you looking at?" For some inexplicable reason, Duncan suddenly spoke softly.

But he did not get a response - the giant was indeed dead, and the rotating eyeball seemed to be just some kind of "inertia" left over from the ancient god's death, or a trace of "aftershock" left by the huge corpse, maintaining the illusion of being alive.

Duncan suddenly thought of a sentence - in the gradually cooling embers after the extinction of all things, the corpses of the ancient gods rule the ashes of the world.

These dead gods, even if they die again, or even after a long, long time, their remains still maintain a certain degree of "operation". Their death is a strange and indescribable state. Even if they are split into countless pieces like a goat's head and twisted into incredible shapes, this "operation" will continue. This long process... seems to last forever.

Duncan still didn’t quite understand what kind of existence these so-called “gods” or “ancient kings” were, nor did he understand what their current state was. But from the pale giant king in front of him, he felt that he seemed to be gradually... touching some kind of “appearance of truth”.

Just then, Duncan suddenly frowned.

He seemed to see something.

There seemed to be something in the giant's cloudy eyes, which seemed to be covered with mist.

Duncan moved closer and observed the turbid reflection more carefully, trying to distinguish some recognizable images from the shadows covered with traces of time. Gradually, he finally saw something from it -

He first saw a huge being with a hideous appearance like some kind of sea beast, but with an elegant and holy nature. This being stood in front of him, and then there was a human figure with flames wrapped around its body, standing beside it. Behind these two figures, he could see some dimly glowing things, which seemed to be a series of neatly arranged lights, which were embedded in a huge cube...

In addition, there were giants wearing black robes that looked like corpses, twisted and strange, indescribable masses, shadows that floated above many beings like dark clouds, tall, thin, bent limbs, clusters of thorns, and pale golden arcs of light...

Many vague and illusory outlines like this were reflected in the giant's single eye, each with a strange shape, silently and solemnly surrounding the darkness.

Duncan stared in astonishment at those figures that seemed to be able to radiate infinite power even if only the images remained. After nearly half a minute, he suddenly realized what this was -

This is the "Gods", the figure of the "Ancient Kings".

What was reflected in the giant's one eye was a scene that happened long, long ago - before the ancient times, in the night between the Great Oblivion and the Deep Sea Era, these majestic beings had gathered in this place. They surrounded the giant and stood silently.

Their images were thus deeply imprinted in this turbid single eye.

This is a funeral.

It was a scene when the gods saw off the King of the Pale Giants after he failed in creating the world and died.

Duncan's mind raced with thoughts, and countless associations arose at the same time. Based on the current legends in the mortal world and the intelligence he had recently collected, he tried to match the images reflected in the giant's eye one by one, but found that in addition to the four known gods and a few ancient gods, many of those figures had no corresponding legends or intelligence records at all.

There were even more than half of them that he had no idea who they were—they were not found in the Orthodox records, nor even in the deviant myths and legends of the pagans.

Duncan stood in silence.

If each "god" represents a relatively powerful civilization that survives after the destruction of the world, then it seems that more than half of the "ancient gods" have fallen silently before the Third Long Night - even the "Book of Blasphemy" does not leave their names.

The "ancient kings" like the King of Pale Giants and the King of Dreams who died at the creation of the world were actually the lucky ones among these fallen kings.

Duncan sighed softly, took a step back, and prepared to turn around and leave.

But during this sigh, he noticed another detail.

His own image was now reflected in the giant's single eye.

Reflections are among the figures of ancient kings frozen in the long river of time.

There was an empty seat there, neither too big nor too small.

It was as if this place had already been left here a hundred centuries ago when they gathered here to bid farewell to the Pale Giant King.